When Henrik Ibsen released this quote, my mind circles back to memories I used to avoid speaking of. I used to be amazed how people can lead lives and we would never know what secrets they could carry, and what ghosts would keep them awake at night, and now as of writing this, I realized I have become a part of them without even knowing it.

As George Bernard Shaw used to say, "If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you'd best take it out and teach it to dance."

My hiatus from Hive back then could be described as a symphony made in parts. Just like how there are four seasons in a year, there were seasons of breaking, recovering, reflecting, and rebuilding back again.

The breaking season lived up to its name, as not only did it involve a personal break-up, but following it was also a breaking of familial routines and responsibilities brought upon by my dad getting fired from his job. What was to be expected by that change other than the panganay-- stepping up as the only one with a regular paying job at that time, to help keep my family afloat? I had to tighten my grip, one hand on my public school educator post and another on my second part-time job as a blog writer, all while licking the wounds of my personal losses. None of my bratty complaints mattered anymore when it came to my family's survival.

That was the version I published back then.

But what most people don't know is that in the middle of all that conundrum, I held my hopes, maybe a bit too tightly, on a romance that didn't fruit.

I'm glad to have gotten your attention now.

Let's say, that in my ranked list of horrible decisions I made in my life, that was probably Top 2, and for all the kids reading here in this platform, take it from your ate (older sister) when I say-- please don't hit the dating apps right after a breakup.
Cry.
Surround yourself with friends.
Go on hikes.

Just don't get lost in that hall of mirrors that only sometimes reflects back each one's own level and flavor of brokenness.

How it started was like any typical story of boy meets girl, except both main characters were sore from recent breakups, and the boy, I guess wanted to sculpt himself into a man in the gym-- stringing along as many girls as possible to pick the ripest fruit.

And the girl, being the overachiever that she was, tried to win the boy by proving she was worth it. She turned into the typical "pick me girl" rather quickly, it was quite embarassing.

Or maybe he was just too pretty.

Or maybe girl was just too drawn to this version of him she built in her head that, as one of the lines of Bojack Horseman would put it "All the red flags just look like flags".

It was as if girl was some sick sailor drawn towards the beauty of a siren in some gender-swapped version of Grimms' Fairy Tales, and unfortunately resulted in a tragedy on her end.

But I guess the good that came out of that experience, was that, when it blew up-- the situationship I mean-- that broken version of who she was, died with it.

The version who naively trusted other people's promises.
The version who also believed that her honesty was unfathomable.
The version who downplayed the damage of what she and other people living in fear could do.
The version who imprisoned herself for the shame she felt in trusting people and trusting herself.

When she cried every night several months after, not only was she trying to heal and forgive herself for following a false god, she also mourned that version of herself who flew way too close to the sun. I attended her funeral, and placed flowers on her tombstone right beside the tombstones of all the other versions that came before.

Now, two years later, I still continue to visit her grave, and place pandakaki petals around her tombstone. I tell her stories about how much I've grown, how much gratitude I have, how I still am so confused about a lot of things, how much freedom and wisdom I have been graced with, and how I'm surrounded with people who echo so much love and purpose. I'd tell her about Jesus as well, and how living the way He lived really is the way.

And you may wonder, do I still get haunted by my 'multo'?

There understandably used to be a feeling of unease, but now it's gone.

After all, the life I envisioned with the version of him I built in my head, was a 'false god', and the shadows of their altars tend to linger longer than they should.

I see him in the LotR memes I pass by on the internet.

I see him in my peripheral of every corny and witty joke guys at uni give way to impress girls, or the wink of a mysterious handsome stranger asking for my attention on the street.

I see him sometimes in the sweet smiles of my double-earing wearing male friends I go to class with, and then regret a bit, for not taking the time to getting to know the guy for who he truly was.

He used to call me button mushroom, and I'm actually studying the micro filamentous versions of these "button mushrooms"-- it doesn't get any more poetic than that.

But more than grief, I actually have a lot of gratitude for the guy and the demise of our situationship, as it gave me my John 12: 20-26 moment.

Because this current version of who I am right now--

Roxanne Marie, first of her name, immaculate seeker of wisdom, blessed poetic radiance, life-long scholar, educator, learner and follower of The Way-- would not have existed.

Isn't it ironic?

How the ghosts of the past could pave the way for a life-giving future?

May we never see ghosts more than they are, and may all our ghosts lead us to more life the same.

Hallelujah, and Happy Halloween 🎃

_{Roxanne Marie is a twenty-year-old something who calls herself the Protean Creator.}

_{She has a background in chemical engineering, worked as a public school teacher, and currently, retrying her luck as a blogger with passion and frustration, and lastly, a life enthusiast. She loves open discourse, witty musings, discussions about abstract and tangible ideas, and any opportunity where she can insert memes into the conversation. She is doing her best to walk the way of love.}

_{She is on a mission to rediscover her truth through the messy iterative process of learning, relearning and unlearning, and openly discusses the ideas and thoughts that are born from her experiences here on Hive.}

_{Currently, she is taking her Masters in UP Los Banos, Laguna, all the while documenting her misadventures, misfortunes, pagka-hugotera, reflections and shenanigans as a working-class millennial.}

_{If you like her content, don't forget to upvote and leave a comment to show some love. It would be an honor to have this post reblogged as well. Also, don't forget to follow her to be updated with her latest posts, and catch her next intellectual (and most of the time, untethered) rants.}